


Legend Ain’t About This Shit

by Sillus



Series: A Fun Little Experiment [2]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, First Meetings, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Just a little tho, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), because it’s legend, cursing, i don’t even know what else to tag this as tbh, its all good guys I promise, lol that moment when the original fic was half the size of this one, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25160362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sillus/pseuds/Sillus
Summary: “I’m beginning to think I time traveled,” Link grumbles.The boy’s scrutiny turns curious. “Well, what year is it?”“Are you seriously asking me that?”The boy shrugs again. “You got any better ideas?”He’s got a point. “It’s 614.”The boy laughs, his nose scrunching up as he smiles. “You’re not even close. Try 1394.”Wellshit.
Relationships: Legend (Linked Universe) & Hyrule (Linked Universe)
Series: A Fun Little Experiment [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1822684
Comments: 37
Kudos: 292





	Legend Ain’t About This Shit

**Author's Note:**

> So I bet that summary might look a tiny bit familiar to anyone who’s read my older works.  
> Well, that’s because this stems from Because Six Adventures Wasn’t Enough.  
> I’ve been thinking a lot about when I first started writing for this fandom, and I thought it would be fun to do a rewrite of the fic that got me started.  
> And as you can see, it’s double the length because of course it is.  
> While the general story is the same, I specifically wanted to do this because I wanted to look at my old work and redo it with a new mindset. My interpretation of these characters has changed, canon has changed, and I have grown as a writer since I started writing for this fandom.  
> And it’s only fitting to post this on July 9th, 2020, exactly one year after I posted Because Six Adventures Wasn’t Enough.  
> So, I hope you enjoy this blast from the past!   
> PS, while not necessary, I would read the original piece before this one. You can find it if you click the link for the series.

A portal swirls in the middle of a worn road, a dark, murky purple that blots out whatever lies through it, a foreboding aura radiating from it in waves.  
  


Link stands before it, his arms crossed, a glare souring his features. He’s seen enough portals in his short life to know that this isn’t just some random rift in time and space. This portal was deliberately placed here, right in front of his house, waiting for him just as he stumbles out of his small yet cozy home in an attempt to not be _as_ late to his job as a blacksmith’s apprentice.

“For _fuck’s_ sake,” he mutters under his breath.

That’s all he allows himself for the time being. Without another word, Link spins around on one heel and marches back into his home, kicking the door shut and discarding his work attire. It takes him mere minutes to get changed into the outfit he has dubbed as “It’s the End of the World Again Clothes”, and only another few minutes to grab his necessary items, before he’s marching out the door once again. He’s disappointed, but not surprised to see the portal still innocently sitting in front of his house.

“Y’know,” Link snaps to nobody in particular as he stomps towards the rift. “You’d think that after saving Hyrule, saving Holodrum—and by extension, Subrosia—saving Labrynna, “saving” Koholint, saving Hyrule again, saving Lorule, and then saving Hytopia, I could catch a fucking break already, right?”

The portal doesn’t respond. Of course it doesn’t. Link pauses right in front of it, jabbing a finger at it.

“You better have a _damn good reason_ for existing right now,” he grumbles. “I don’t get paid enough for this shit.”

With that, he takes a deep breath and steps through the rift without a second thought. The magic surges around him, almost sticky as it clings to his arms and legs. It sucks the air from his lungs, leaving a horrific taste at the back of his throat.

But then he’s through a second later. Link steps onto sand, the waves of the ocean reaching his ears, the tang of salt making him wrinkle his nose. The beach is empty, eerily silent and devoid of all life but his own. When Link turns around, it’s to find that the portal has disappeared, leaving him alone with nothing but his items to keep him company.

_Well this sucks._

All that he can see is sand and ocean, no monsters or people, nothing suspicious or out of the ordinary, hell, not even anything _normal_ on the beach, just sand. With nothing to tell him where he should go, Link decides _that way will do_ and sets off in a random direction.

It does not take him long to find the graveyard.

It’s far larger than any graveyard he’s ever seen. It stretches far beyond his line of sight on all directions minus the one he came from. There’s still no sign of life, still a deafening silence, but this is _something_ aside from water and sand.

“Bad things always happen in graveyards,” Link mumbles to himself. There has to be a reason the portal—that appeared _right in front of his home_ —lead him to this place. Maybe whatever bullshit is going on is taking place here, or maybe there’s a town nearby where he can get information. With that in mind, Link ventures into the graveyard, slipping between the unmarked headstones and wooden crosses. He tries not to breathe too deeply, knowing the smell is going to be less than desirable.

He feels like he makes a decent amount of ground within the graveyard when he hears a low, almost pained groan. He pauses in his meandering, straining his ears to pick up any other strange noises as his eyes flick around. He can’t tell if it was a monster or an injured civilian.

A moment later, there’s another groan, and then another. A bony hand shoots out of the loose dirt, a skull following it. Even without flesh, its ghastly face still looks twisted in pain as it claws itself out from beneath the ground. What looks to be hundreds more follow it.

_“Blood,”_ they moan. _“Sacrifice… Revive…”_

“Fuck _that_ ,” Link growls in reply, kicking away a hand that had latched onto his boot. More spring up from the dirt, skeletal fingers grabbing his feet, his legs, even his arms. One lucky hand grabs his wrist before he can draw his sword, and his heart leaps into his throat at the sheer amount of what has to be stalfos crawling towards him.

Nope. Fuck this. Link rips his wrist free and scrambles away, stumbling over his own feet and the various hands and skulls. He ducks under flailing limps, jumps over torsos, yells when a hand snags his boot and rips it clean off his foot. There must be some divine being that’s taken pity on him today, as he remembered to wear socks this morning in his rush to get ready. He sends a thankful prayer to whoever’s listening and runs like he’s never run before.

The stalfos give chase, screeching and caterwauling, flowing around the various headstones and markers like a river of bones and death. Link rips up a wooden marker and flings it back at them, but the marker is ripped to shreds within seconds, and it does nothing to deter the horde.

And that’s exactly what this is, a _horde._ Link doesn’t think he’s ever seen this many monsters in one area before. He’s been outnumbered plenty of times, completely surrounded, ambushed, the list goes on. But a group this big? A group that sends Link running at the first chance he’s got, kicking aside rotted offerings and bones alike?

Something is terribly wrong here.

“Moron,” Link grunts. “I should have never come here. Bad things _always_ happen in graveyards!” He swerves around a particularly large headstone in hopes of slowing down the horde enough to gain some ground, but it doesn’t work in the slightest. The stalfos’ screeching grows louder and louder, incomprehensible garbling turning into words— _chants_.

“ _Blood_.”

“ _Sacrifice._ ”

“ _Triforce._ ”

“ _Ganon._ ”

“ _Kill._ ”

“ ** _Revive!_** ”

“ ** _Blood!_** ”

“ ** _Hero!_** ”

“ ** _Triforce!_** ”

“ ** _GANON!_** ”

It’s so loud, _too_ loud, and Link slaps his hands over his ears without even thinking in an attempt blot them out. The medallions bounce against his chest as he pumps his legs, striving to go just a _little faster_ —and if only he hadn’t lost his boot! He could be miles from here right now, but instead they’re gaining on him, screeches and chanting only growing louder and louder as they close in on him, and soon he’ll be surrounded by an endless wall of the dead, all his items and weapons rendered useless in the face of sheer numbers—

The medallions!

He took all three, tied them to a cord and threw it on as a makeshift necklace. He fingers them as he runs, his mind whirling as his options present themselves.

If anything can help him get out of this mess, it would be the medallions, but that depends on which one he uses. The Quake Medallion should turn most of them—if not all—into a horde of slimes through an earthquake, but they are still enemies that can hurt Link if he’s not careful—or if he’s feeling rather stupid. Not to mention, the earthquakes may even work against him.

The Bombos Medallion would definitely destroy them all, but the explosions resulting from its use may also destroy _Link_ —if they don’t incapacitate him. The stalfos are far too close for him to properly aim, and if he misses even one, or if more come out of the ground after its use, he’s _screwed_.

But the Ether Medallion… a burst of ice cold lighting will tear apart the weak and freeze the strong. It will not ensure his safety, but it _will_ ensure that he can gain some ground and maybe even get an item out to better defend himself. It seems like the best option.

And his _only_ option at this point.

A hand catches his sleeve, sharp bony fingers digging into the skin of his arm, and Link’s hand closes around Ether without a second thought.

Lightning sets the sky ablaze with its light, the stalfos howling in agony as the bolts strike them down one by one. Link keeps running until he’s sure he’s a safe distance away before whipping around to watch the show, a hand on his fire rod and a hand on Ether. The stalfos try to retreat underground, clawing at the dirt with desperate hands, only for the lightning to strike them down before they can even make a dent in the earth. They burst into dark smoke that curls into the air, the wind cutting into it until nothing remains but a bad memory.

And Link _gapes_ at the sight, his hand falling away from his medallion. That was _not_ Ether.

The air tingles with electricity and magic as he breathes it in and out. The dark clouds above him rumble with thunder, and he cannot recall when they had gotten there. This was not natural in the slightest. Thunderstorms don’t just _appear_. Lightning doesn’t just decide _fuck these monsters in particular_ and strike down every single stalfos that had been after Link. No, this was born from magic, from a _person_ , and they know he’s here. They specifically spared him when they could have easily roped him into the massacre that just occurred. Link isn’t stupid.

His hand moves from his fire rod to his sword, ears strained to catch any little noise as he looks around. Headstones, wooden markers, charred earth, more headstones, a blackened skeleton, a pair of green eyes, some more wooden markers…

_Wait hold on here…_

Link snaps his gaze back to the pair of green eyes peering at him from behind a crumbling headstone. Although the shadows hide the body they belong to well, Link can make out tanned skin, messy hair, and old dirty clothes.

Link doesn’t take his hand off his sword, but he does relax. It seems he and the boy are the only ones here now, the only signs of life among the dead.

“You should leave,” the boy tells him, his words bold and commanding but his voice small and hesitant. “They’ll come back.”

“Who are you?” Link shoots back instead of heeding the boy’s advice. He probably _should_ leave, but his curiosity is taking the lead now. Why is there another person here in this deathtrap of a graveyard, and one so young too?

The boy shies away, shoulders hunching and head lowering. “I’m nobody.”

“Sure you are,” Link drawls in reply. “And I’m sure nobody was the source of that lightning storm, right?”

The boy flinches. “You… How did you…”

“Listen, kid,” Link says, letting go of his sword to cross his arms. “A lightning storm like that doesn’t just _happen_. I know magic when I see it, and you _reek_ of magic.”

“Who _are_ you?” the boy blurts out, a hand shifting to something strapped to his side. Link suspects it might be a sword or an item of sorts, but the poor lighting and the way the boy is turned away from him keeps it hidden from view.

“Didn’t I already ask _you_ that?” Link responds, fighting the urge to grab his own sword once more. Whatever he’s doing, he’s clearly doing it _wrong_ , as the boy is only getting more and more aggravated with each passing second. Maybe a different approach would be a better idea?

A groan halts his train of thought, and he sees the boy grow pale as more groans join the first one. Link can imagine he looks the same, his blood running cold at the realization that he’s still in the graveyard.

The boy glances around, then looks back at Link. He doesn’t move despite the danger they’re in, hesitant yet wary. Wary of _Link_.

“I’m not your enemy,” Link tells him. His instincts scream at him to run, to get away because this time he will not be saved, but another part of him can’t bring itself to leave the boy behind, especially since he saved Link the first time.

That seems to make up the boy’s mind. He lunges forward and grabs Link’s wrist, yanking him along as he takes off running. Link nearly falls flat on his face, scrambling to get his legs underneath him so he could keep up with the boy. More stalfos appear from the ground, notably not from the charred earth, but just as aggressive as before.

“Is this a common occurrence?” Link yells over the screeching.

“Of course it is,” the boy shouts back. “It’s a _graveyard_!”

Link can’t say he likes that answer, nor how the kid said it. Nevertheless, he eventually matches the boy’s pace, twisting his arm so he can grasp his hand. He feels magic crackling underneath his skin, and belatedly realizes that it’s coming from his newfound companion. They weave through the graveyard, tearing free of any hands that manage to snag their clothes. Link sees his missing boot on the way and snags it with a joyful cheer that’s drowned out by the horde behind them. The horde, however, can’t drown out the grin the boy sends him.

The two stumble onto the beach, Link tripping over the sand while the boy drops his hand in favor of falling to his hands and knees. Link whips around, sure that the stalfos are still following them, but to his surprise they simply stand at the edge of the graveyard, screeches now tinged with frustration.

“They can’t step onto the beach,” the boy gasps from beside him. “They’re bound to the graveyard.”

Link kneels down beside him, taking in his reddened face, his slightly shaking limbs, and worries that the kid might actually be injured somewhere. Before he can start his search, however, he waves Link away.

“I’m fine, just tried.”

“You’re a lot more than tired,” Link mutters, and the kid huffs out a laugh.

“That spell takes a lot out of me, that’s all.” The kid pushes himself up, leans back on his haunches, then glances over at Link.

And now that they’re relatively safe—or at least Link _hopes_ they’re safe—the air between them grows strained, _heavy_. Link has many questions he would like to ask this stranger, and it seems the boy does too.

Link decides to take the lead. “So what’s with the creepy chanting?”

While he wants to ask many different questions on topics he actually cares about, it’s probably better to start on something mundane so he can get to know the boy better. He has no idea what’s running through this kid’s head nor how he’ll react to Link’s questions.

The boy snorts at this one, eyeing the graveyard with a look of disdain. “They don’t exactly like me,” he mumbles.

“Because you’re alive and they’re not?” Link presses. _Get him talking. The more you know how he acts, the easier it’ll be to avoid conflict._

The boy shrugs. “Kind of?” He turns that disdainful look onto Link, standing strong and unfazed by Link’s attempts to chip at his walls. “What if I told you they wanted to sacrifice me to revive Ganon?”

_That’s_ a name Link is all too familiar with, which means he must still be in Hyrule—or at least close to it. He scowls, his curiosity turning into bitterness.

“I’d say it’s too damn early for that fucking pig to come back again,” he says, rolling his eyes. The boy chuckles.

“Tell me about it. It’s only been three years since he was killed.”

Three years? Since Ganon has been killed? That can’t be right, Link just sealed him for the third time six months ago.

So he’s a liar, and a terrible one at that.

“You’re funny,” Link mutters. “Now what’s the real story?”

The boy narrows his eyes, hands clenching into fists. “What are you talking about?”

“You said Ganon was killed three years ago,” Link snaps. “I just sealed him away six months ago. So what’s the real story?”

The boy says nothing, eyes narrowed into a glare to match Link’s. “That’s impossible. Ganon can’t come back unless his cult sacrifices me. And last I checked, I’m still here.”

There’s a tense moment of silence between the two, their eyes boring into the other’s as they search for any sign that the other is lying. _The eyes are the windows to the soul_ , his uncle had told him when Link had been a small child. _The eyes will never deceive you_.

But the boy’s eyes… those green eyes hold no malice, no dishonesty. Only an indignant anger that smolders among the distrusting gleam.

The boy is not a liar, and yet this can be nothing _but_ a lie.

“Who are you?” The boy demands.

Link raises his chin, all to happy to tell the boy _exactly_ who he is. Maybe then, he’ll realize who he’s dealing with. “If you _must_ know, my name is Link, y’know, the local hero?”

He barely gets the words out before the kid suddenly draws his sword, a wild gleam in his eyes. Link kicks up sand as he scrambles back, going to draw his own sword only for the tip of the boy’s blade to press against his neck. He freezes, pinned in place by both a sword and by a burning gaze.

So much for avoiding conflict.

“Stop _lying_ to me,” the boy hisses. In the bright sunlight, Link can clearly see that while young, this kid is no joke. He’s got several scars on his freckled face with more dipping below his tunic, a wiry strength in his skinny limbs that holds his sword steady, wide eyes that burn with a fury that Link recognizes, that Link has _felt_.

Link slowly raises his hands, palms up, fighting the urge lean away even when the blade bites into his throat. His heart thunders in his chest as he struggles to keep his breathing even and steady.

“I don’t know what I said to piss you off,” Link says around the lump in his throat, “but I can assure you, I’m not a liar.”

“Then why did you say your name was Link?” The boy shoots back. “Why did you say you sealed Ganon six months ago? Do you take me for some kind of idiot?”

Link furrows his eyebrows. Something’s not right here. They both have conflicting stories, and the boy refuses to back down—going so far as to immediately draw his sword at the mention of Link’s name.

Something is missing… but what?

“Because that _is_ my name,” Link replies slowly, very aware of the fact that he is not in control here. “And I _did_ seal Ganon six months ago.”

The kid scoffs. “Didn’t you just say you weren’t a liar?”

“Why would I lie to you?” Link retorts, a spark of indignant anger making him raise his voice. “You saved my sorry ass from all those stalfos, right? What reason would I have to lie to you? I’d be a shitty person if I lied to someone who actually helped me for once!”

The kid says nothing, jaw tightened, knuckles white, eyes burning with anger—no… fear. He’s _afraid_ , even though he’s the one pointing the sword at Link, he’s the one who’s able to summon entire storms of pure lightning.

“Do you want proof?” Link asks, grabbing hold of his anger and stifling it. Anger will get him nowhere. Anger will result in his head severed from his shoulders. There has to be a reason for this nonsense, and he won’t find it by getting on the bad side of the only person around.

The boy blinks, the sword inches away. He studies him, looking for any hint that this is a trap. Link stands his ground, lets the boy trace every inch of his face with his eyes, lets the boy realize that Link is being earnest.

“I’m going to move my left hand,” Link tells him slowly, carefully. “I’m not grabbing a weapon, I just want you to look at it.”

The boy nods, but doesn’t lower his sword. Link slowly extends his hand, making sure the boy can see it, before flipping it over so he can see the back.

The boy’s eyes flick down to his hand, widening when he sees the faint scarring left behind by having the Triforce in his possession. After having the relic embedded into his hand during his second and third adventures, and then having the Triforce of Courage for a short time on his fifth adventure, the magic residue from such a powerful object took the form of scars. It used to hurt, like a hammer had been taken to his hand over and over, but now it’s nothing but a faint sting.

The boy looks up at him, down at the markings again, and then he lowers his sword.

“That’s…” the boy takes his hand, his thumb tracing the lines, and Link feels magic caressing his skin, filling the gaps left behind by the sacred power he once held, and instead of burning with holiness or searing his skin, it’s a cool wave that washes over his past hurts. It takes his pain, his trauma, his loss, and wipes it away like a salve to a cut.

“They’re real,” the boy mumbles under his breath.

Link gives him a small smile to hide just how shaken he is on the inside. “Believe me now?”

“This is impossible,” the boy says, looking as if he’s seen a ghost. Maybe he has, but Link wouldn’t know. He raises an eyebrow at that, unsure if he wants to take his hand back or let the boy hold it.

“Why is it not possible?”

The boy lets his hand go, sheathes his sword, pulls the weird glove off his left hand, and shows Link the angry red lines etched into his skin in the exact same symbol embedded into his own hand.

“Because _I’m_ Link,” the boy answers in a voice that’s as shaky as Link feels. “ _I_ killed Ganon three years ago.”

And isn’t _that_ a shocker? Link wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he stepped through that portal this morning, but this is the _last thing_ he would ever expect from another adventure.

And looking at the boy—at _Link_ —he can believe it. He immediately drew his sword when he suspected something amiss, he has the same no nonsense attitude, he saved Link, a stranger, at the risk of his own life.

Nothing is making sense! Ever since the portal, Link has been—

_The fucking portal._

“Where am I?” Link demands, catching the boy off guard.

“Uh, you’re just south of Mido Town,” he responds, his words slow in his sudden confusion.

“And where _is_ Mido Town?” _Is this some kind of alternate reality, like Lorule? Or maybe a twisted dimension on my own plane of reality, like the Dark World?_

“Hyrule.”

“ _Hyrule_?” Link splutters. “There’s no Mido Town in Hyrule!”

“What’s _with_ you?” The boy huffs. “I find you bumbling around the _graveyard_ of all places, you didn’t recognize me but you _did_ sense my magic, your name is Link and you’re apparently some hero I’ve never heard of, you have the mark of the Triforce, and now there’s apparently no Mido Town in Hyrule? Did you hit your head or something?”

“Listen, kid,” Link snaps, all patience and caution thrown _right_ out the window in the face of this _stupidity_. “I have _no fucking idea_ what’s going on, okay? I woke up to _another_ god damn portal in front of my house and took one step inside it and found myself here. I’ve never seen this graveyard, I’ve never heard of Ganon having a _cult_ , I’ve never heard of Mido Town. And don’t even get me _started_ on _you_!

“And _no_ ,” Link adds just as the boy is opening his mouth. “I didn’t hit my head.”

“Are you sure?” The kid says instead, a mischievous grin on his face. “There’s a healer we can visit in Mido Town.”

“You think this is _funny_?”

“A little. That, and I’m convinced you hit your head.”

“I didn’t fucking hit my head,” Link snaps again. “In fact, I wish I _had_ , because then I can chalk all this shit up to being a hallucination or something. But _no_ , I’m not _that_ lucky. I’ll consider myself lucky if I don’t have to deal with another lunatic obsessed with paintings.”

“Wait, wait, a lunatic obsessed with paintings?” The kid asks, and Link lets out a long, arduous sigh.

“Yes, you heard that right. That guy was _awful_. Six months ago he caused all those fissures in the walls and turned the Seven Sages into paintings.” Link sighs again. “But let me guess, that _also_ didn’t happen?”

“Actually,” the kid murmurs. “I’ve heard stories about that. But… that wasn’t six months ago, that was six centuries ago.”

Six _centuries_?

This is just one mind-blowing slap in the face after another.

“I’m sorry, _what_?” Link gapes at the kid, only to receive a shrug in return.

“I don’t know what to tell you. That was the Hero of Legend, and he died over six centuries ago.”

“Last I checked, I’m still here,” Link parrots back, and the boy’s jaw _drops_.

“Wait… you’re…!”

Link holds up his left hand, waving it as he exclaims, “Where do you think _this_ came from?”

“That make _no sense_ and yet it makes _perfect sense_ ,” the boy mutters, giving Link a scrutinizing _look_.

“I’m beginning to think I time traveled,” Link grumbles.

The boy’s scrutiny turns curious. “Well, what year is it?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?”

The boy shrugs again. “You got any better ideas?”

He’s got a point. “It’s 614.”

The boy laughs, his nose scrunching up as he smiles. “You’re not even close. Try 1394.”

Well _shit_.

Link lets out a groan. Not just a regular groan, no, but rather the type of groan that causes his shoulders to slump, causes his head to lean back as his chest rumbles with the sound. “I _fucking time traveled._ ” He runs a hand down his face. “That fucking portal, I _knew_ this wasn’t going to end well. Now I’m stuck in the damn future. Wonderful. Just _wonderful_. This is _exactly_ what I _didn’t need._ ”

“Um… I’m sorry that you’re eight centuries ahead of your time?” The boy murmurs, not apologetic in the slightest.

“ _Thanks_ ,” Link hisses. “You’re _so_ helpful.”

“Sorry,” the kid mumbles, raising a hand to awkwardly pat his shoulder. “Look, I have no idea what’s going on either, but you’re here for a reason, right? And of all the people you could have met, you met _me_ , the only one who picked up where you left off. That can’t just be a coincidence, right?”

“It’s never just a coincidence,” Link sighs. “There’s always something causing a problem, always—“

Wait a minute.

_It’s only been three years since he was killed._

_You’re not even close. Try 1394._

_Because **I’m** Link. **I** killed Ganon three years ago._

“Uh, you okay?” Link hears the boy ask distantly. “You’re shaking.”

And that’s just it. He’s a _boy_. A boy, just like he was. A boy who fought Ganon three years ago. A boy who _killed_ Ganon three years ago.

A boy named Link with the mark of the ancient goddesses on his left hand.

And all those scars on that young face, the power sparking beneath smooth skin, the fierceness burning in round green eyes…

He had to go through the same thing Link did… because Link _failed_.

Everything he did… Hyrule, the Dark World, Holodrum, Labrynna, Subrosia, Lorule…

Everything he did was for _nothing_.

And proof of that kneels before him, hands on his shoulders, voice tinged with fear as he asks, “Mister? Um… Mr. Hero?”

Six journeys, and Link ultimately failed to keep evil at bay. Six journeys, and Ganon still returned.

“I really think we should go see that healer…”

Did he make a mistake somewhere? He followed the legends of old, he followed them _twice_ , and both times he supposedly emerged victorious.

Except, those legends of old depicted the story of the Defeated Hero, or what little was left about them. In truth, there was very little information about them.

And they failed to keep Ganon at bay. The Defeated Hero died so that the ancient sages could seal Ganon away, and it didn’t work.

Did Link unknowingly follow in that hero’s footsteps? Ganon came back three times, after all, and then a fourth well after his lifetime.

Did he doom his kingdom?

“ _Hey_!”

Link _jumps_ , but the hands on his shoulders hold him in place before he could scramble away. The boy seems almost scared, hands squeezed tight around Link’s shoulders.

“Breathe,” he says, “You are on a beach. There is an old graveyard behind me. It is almost sundown. _Breathe._ ”

Link realizes that he’s trembling, that every breath is catching in his throat. He digs his fingers into the sand, looks into those green eyes—those _innocent_ green eyes—and takes a deep breath. Gradually, he wrangles his own body into a state that can be called calm, though Link can do nothing about the unsettling feeling deep in his gut.

“You okay, Mr. Hero?”

“Mr. Hero?” Link mumbles, and the boy smiles sheepishly.

“Ah, well… calling you Link would have been a little weird…”

“Oh.” Link can’t help but think of Ravio and his own use of the ridiculous nickname. Why are the ones that call him “Mr. Hero” always the people who exist in places Link should’ve _never_ had access to?

And speaking of nicknames…

“I need a better name than “Mr. Hero”,” Link mutters. “And you need one too so I don’t have to keep referring to you as “boy” all the time.”

“Why would we need nicknames?” The boy chuckles.

“Because obviously there’s some bullshit going on right now, and I know _I’m_ going to go deal with it, and since this is _your_ time period, you’re going to be my guide until we _get_ to the bullshit because _I_ certainly don’t know where I’m going and I could really use the help of someone competent.”

The boy blinks. “I… what?”

Link rolls his eyes. “Nicknames. Because you’re going to help me find the thing until I can fix it and we both go home happy.”

“Oh.” The boy raises a hand to his chin, eyes narrowed in thought. The other still rests on Link’s shoulder, and he can’t find it in himself to shake it off. “Well, lets see…”

* * *

  
After hashing out a couple details, accompanied by an irrational amount of complaining about how impossible the entire situation is, the two eventually settled on some nicknames for one another.

The boy was named the Hero of Hyrule after he defeated Ganon three years prior. With no other kind of name or titles aside from “Link”, they decided he would go by Hyrule or Traveler. Which name purely depends on which one Link likes saying more. So far, it’s Hyrule.

And because Link decided one of his nicknames would be his title, Hyrule decided to do the same and promptly dubbed him Legend.

_You’re a literal fairy tale here_ , Hyrule had said. _And if you’re gonna call me by my title, it seems only fair to call you by yours. Or do you prefer Mr. Hero?_

Hyrule is leading him to Mido Town, as there’s an inn they book a room at for both sleeping purposes and planning purposes. Legend asked Hyrule why they didn’t just find a cave and rough it for the night to save a little money, but Hyrule only said that being outside at night would only lead to unwanted trouble, especially in this area.

Legend decided to let that subject drop.

As they trudge through the sand, Legend’s thoughts keep drifting to Ganon. The unsettling feeling in his gut has yet to disperse, only growing into guilt and shame. Every time he looks at his newfound companion, it only strengths more and more until it’s nearly bursting from his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually blurts out.

Hyrule pauses, glancing over at him. “What for?”

Legend waves a hand, gesturing at their desolate surroundings. “For all of… _this_ , I suppose. I obviously messed up somewhere along the way and caused this to happen.”

Hyrule, much to Legend’s surprise, turns to face him fully. He crosses his arms and levels Legend with a glare that sends ice down his spine.

“Are you really going to blame yourself for something that was out of your control after sealing away the greatest evil ever known to our kingdom for eight centuries?” He asks in such a deadpan voice that it makes Legend wince. “Because our home has known a relative peace for those eight centuries. Sure, the kingdom wasn’t exactly prospering, but it was _your_ actions that kept the people safe from Ganon.”

“And yet, the seal didn’t last,” Legend replies, guilt and shame growing into anger. “You still had to fight.”

“I’m seventeen. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”

The anger blooms into a burst of _red_.“But you shouldn’t have _had to fight_ ,” Legend snarls, and Hyrule flinches. “You shouldn’t have had to fight because it was _my job_ to make sure Ganon never returned. It was _my job_ to make sure our kingdom was safe. You say you’re seventeen? That means you were _fourteen_ when you first picked up the sword and went off to save the world. And that was the very thing I was trying to _prevent_. I spent _seven fucking years_ of my life keeping the people safe from whatever evil should appear so _this wouldn’t happen._

“And I _failed_.” Legend bites back a sob, clenching his hands into fists as anger wilts into despair. “I failed you, and I’m _sorry_.”

Hyrule surges forward, and Legend rears back, fully expecting pain or anger or _something_. Instead, Hyrule surprises him yet again by flinging his arms around Legend’s shoulders and pulling him close.

A hug, Legend realizes belatedly.

“You’re not listening,” Hyrule gently chastises. “You kept the kingdom safe for _eight centuries_. You’re the reason there’s even a kingdom right now instead of a wasteland filled with monsters. You’re the reason I’m even alive to prevent Ganon from coming back.” Hyrule squeezes him, and Legend gives into the urge to clutch at his tunic and lean into the embrace. “I have something to protect because of you. I have a reason to fight because of you. You didn’t fail, not at all. You kept our kingdom alive. And I’m proud to be your successor.”

“You were so young,” Legend mumbles. He is still too young, too innocent, too _good_.

“So were you,” Hyrule shoots back. “And yet your journeys became legends that survive far beyond your lifetime. Do you really think people would remember so much for so long if you weren’t worshipped?”

Legend thinks about the Defeated Hero and shakes his head. Hyrule pulls away and gives him a small smile.

“Exactly.” Then, “Mido Town is a half hour away at most. You coming?”

Legend returns the smile and nods, falling in step with Hyrule as they continue walking across the beach.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

* * *

  
They don’t make it to Mido Town.

The buildings are only just beginning to show up on the horizon when Legend sees a familiar round, murky purple hole in reality.

“Ah, there it is!” he exclaims, pointing a finger at it. Hyrule follows his gaze, and Legend can’t help but notice how he stiffens at the sight of it.

“ _That’s_ what you were looking for?” he asks as Legend leads them over to it.

“I think so?” Legend responds, coming to a stop before it. That familiar sickly magic makes him wrinkle his nose, and he fights the urge to plug it, knowing it won’t help. “This is how I got here _,_ anyway.”

“Wait, you _walked through this?_ ” Hyrule exclaims, gawking at him in favor of looking at the portal.

“Is that _not_ what you’re supposed to do when you see a portal?”

“I…” Hyrule pinches the bridge of his nose, looking as if he’s two seconds away from smacking Legend right upside the head. Maybe he is. “Why would you walk into something _clearly_ made up of dark magic?

Legend narrows his eyes. “I can’t help but feel like you’re calling me an idiot.”

Hyrule doesn’t say a word, he only stares at Legend with his arms crossed.

“… Point taken.” Legend spins around so he’s face to face with the portal. “Well anyway, thanks for your help. I’ll be on my way now.”

He takes one step before a hand grabs his arm.

“Wait.” Hyrule tugs him back. Legend looks over his shoulder at his fellow hero, raising an eyebrow at the torn expression on his face. “You’re really going to walk through that?”

“Of course I am,” Legend replies, turning to face him fully. “These aren’t normal. Something is making them appear, and whatever it is clearly isn’t anything nice. And considering this is the third time I’ve come across some weird dark portal thingy, I’m willing to bet this will lead to yet another problem with Ganon, if not something worse.”

Hyrule gulps, but then nods, determination sparking to life in his eyes. “Alright. Give me a minute to prepare myself and then we can get going.”

“Woah, woah,” Legend holds up a hand. “I never said you had to come with me.”

“No, you didn’t,” Hyrule replies with a shrug. “I decided to.”

“I can’t ask you to do this!”

Hyrule glares at him. “You’re _not_. I’m not about to stand by and let my people be threatened by whatever is creating these portals. I’m coming with.”

Legend can’t argue with that. After all, his six adventures were the result of him wanting to protect his people. Hyrule, as the hero of this time period, simply wants to do the same.

And who is Legend to stop him?

He sighs. “If you’re sure…”

“There’s a reason the portal you went through put you close to where I happened to be,” Hyrule reasons, his hand tightening around Legend’s arm. “And there’s a reason we both stumbled upon this one.”

“A believer in fate, are you?” Legend asks.

Hyrule nods. Legend can’t say he feels the same way, but Hyrule makes a good point.

“Then let’s get going,” Legend utters.

And together, they share a nod before taking the first step of what is bound to be the most unique of adventures.

Though unique is putting it nicely…

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoyed rewriting this. It was fun to do, and I was surprised to see how much I wanted to change it to fit my current interpretations.   
> Fun Fact: the title of this fic is the name of the original document for Because Six Adventures Wasn’t Enough.   
> I do hope you enjoyed it!   
> And feel free to tell me how you feel about it! Critique is always welcome :D


End file.
